Chicken Soup for the Heart
by Meg-atron3
Summary: It started the day Darcy got sick. And really, who wouldn't want a secret admirer?


It started the day Darcy got sick. It wasn't that she was a whiner. Just that she was vocal about everything, including when she felt like shit, so anyone who walked past the lab that day knew exactly how she felt. Jane only put up with her for a few hours before insisting that she head home and get some sleep. Since 'home' was really an apartment three floors up and one hallway over it wasn't really a chore to get there.

Once inside, she saw a bottle of cold meds and a bag of cough drops on her countertop that hadn't been there that morning. A small note sat with them: _Heard you were feeling sick. Hope these make you feel better. PS: There is chicken soup in your fridge._

Darcy stared at the offering for a moment, her cold-fogged brain trying to sort through the message. "Jarvis, who left these here?"

"I have been asked not to reveal that, Ms. Lewis."

"But it's okay, right? Like it's not poisoned or anything?"

"I assure you, they only have your best interests at heart."

"Thanks, J."

Darcy heated up half the soup in the fridge (it was from the little deli around the corner that made her favorite sandwiches, ever), chugged some cold meds and went to sleep.

The next day she spent on the couch, eating the rest of her gifted soup and a sleeve of Saltines from her cupboard and watching musicals on Netflix. The mystery of the cold-busting care package teased at her brain, but she figured it was just someone in the Tower being neighborly. By day three she was feeling pretty good, so she grabbed a box of tissues and headed back to the lab.

Just after lunch that day, Darcy headed to the storage closet to refill Jane's lab with the things Jane didn't even realize a lab needed. Like printer paper and dry erase markers and disposable coffee cups. When she returned to her desk, there was a Starbucks cup sitting in the middle of her desk with a little note on top of it: _Glad you are feeling better. Thought you might like some coffee._

Darcy glanced over at Jane, who was busy talking to a machine as if it could understand her. "Jane? Did you..." Darcy trailed off, looking at the note. Not Jane's writing. Or Tony's or Bruce's for that matter, although it was distinctly male. Okay, so secret admirer. She could roll with that. Glancing at the coffee, she thought about asking Jarvis if it was safe (she wasn't paranoid, just cautious), but he beat her to it.

"The coffee is perfectly safe, Ms. Lewis. And it's getting cold."

She grinned at the AI and his ever present sassy help and took a sip of her coffee. Mmmm. Peppermint Mocha. Her favorite. Darcy got back to work, feeling as though the cold was completely gone.

The gifts continued to come, but without any kind of hints or schedule. Sometimes she would get two or three in a row, sometimes it would be weeks between them. They were always small, nothing that cost much or would push it into the weird, stalker realm. And they usually had little note with them in the now-familiar handwriting.

 _Saw these and thought of you._ Said one that was under a set of blue socks with coffee mugs on them.

 _In case you miss home._ Said another with a touristy snow-globe of the Seattle Space Needle.

 _You worked late last night. Thought you could use a pick-me-up._ Attached to a box of still warm cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee.

Lot of them were just cups of coffee or a cookie, sometimes with a note, sometimes without. And they always seemed to arrive when she needed a pick-me-up the most.

Jarvis refused to tell her who it was, but he said he would let them know if Darcy wanted them to stop. Darcy told him to do no such thing! She wasn't trying particularly hard to figure out who it was. She was enjoying the gifts, and figured that if they wanted to remain anonymous, she would let them. For now.

Really, it could only be a handful of people. They had to have clearance not only for the lab floor, but the residential levels, because the gifts were left either on her desk at work or in her apartment. And they were never left while she was there, so she wasn't totally worried about anyone creepily watching her sleep or something. She had also noticed that when the Avenger's left on a mission, the gifts stopped until they came back.

One morning, the gift on her desk was a small framed drawing of one of the bridges in Central Park. She had seen that drawing before! It didn't have a note, but she snatched it up and dashed out of the lab, heading towards the common room.

Steve sat in an armchair, reading a series of files in the quiet. Darcy interrupted him by shoving the picture in front of his nose.

"You drew this!" She accused.

Steve looked up at her with a mild expression. "Yes, I did."

"Did you give it to me?" She asked a bit breathlessly. She suddenly realized that if all those gifts were from Steve, she was sounding a bit ungrateful. But Steve was kinda like a brother and she was having FEELINGS for her mystery gifter, and those feelings definitely didn't translate to Steve.

"I didn't give it to you. I gave it to someone else who wanted to give it to you because they knew you liked it."

"Oh," replied Darcy, letting out a breath she hadn't known she was holding in. "Okay then."

"Do you want to know who..." Steve started.

"No! Don't tell me!" Darcy all but yelled. She clutched the picture to her chest, hugging it unconsciously. "They can tell me when they're ready. I mean, I assume they will."

Steve gave her one of his warmest, most dazzling smiles. "You're a good woman, Darcy Lewis."

Steve returned to his files and Darcy wandered out of the common room and back to the elevators, looking at the drawing in her hands. Steve had done it one afternoon after the whole team had spent the morning at a charity softball game. He had just sat down on the grass and drawn the bridge with a stub of a pencil on the back of a flyer. Darcy had seen him drawing and come over to look at his work.

"It's beautiful," she told him. "Reminds me of an old bridge in a fairy tale or something."

Steve had smiled at her and she had left him to his sketching to help Pepper with Tony corralling. But someone else had been near enough to hear her say that, if only she could remember who.

A week later, Darcy decided to go out on a limb and give her admirer a bit of a nudge. She wrote them a quick note and left it on her counter. She didn't bother to tell Jarvis it was there, she assumed he knew what she wanted.

When she got home that night, the note was still on the counter, but someone had written a reply under hers.

 _I wanted to thank you for all the gifts. If you ever want to meet face to face, just let me know when and where. No pressure though, I don't mind the mystery._

 _-Nine, tonight? Roof?_

"Jarvis will you tell my mysterious man that I'll be there?"

"Consider it done, Ms. Lewis."

Darcy looked at the note again. She had an idea who it might be, but the whole roof thing was throwing her for a bit of a loop. Maybe she was wrong. The roof didn't seem like the type of place he would choose. But then again, maybe she didn't know him as well as he seemed to know her.

She dressed carefully as the clock ticked agonizingly slowly towards nine. She wore the coffee cup socks he had given her, even though he wouldn't know. She wound the green scarf with white stars around her neck that have shown up after two weeks of no contact. She wound her hair up into a bun since roof + wind + Darcy's hair didn't mix well and at ten to nine, she headed to the elevator and the roof.

It seemed to be deserted when she got there, and her quiet "Hello?" didn't receive an answer. Darcy stepped over to the railing, looking down at the city and all the lights. She was a bit early, and super nervous for obvious reason.

Someone behind her cleared their throat and Darcy whirled around and found herself nose to chest with James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes.

"It's you!" She breathed, looking up into his blue eyes. "I mean, I thought it was you. I _hoped_ it was you. But then the roof thing kinda threw me and I thought maybe I was wrong, but I wasn't and it's you!"

He seemed more nervous than she was, his eyes darting around her face as she rambled. She knew that although he was totally himself these days, sometimes he couldn't find the words to say, often spending days without saying a thing. She was just beginning to think this was one of those days when he finally spoke.

"I used to be so much better at this," he began, teeth coming down to chew on the corner of his lip. "Sometimes I can't say anything at all and most times I can't say anything to you because you're just... so perfectly you. And I'm not sure someone like you could ever, you know..." He waved a hand helplessly around. "With someone like me. And I just wanted you to know someone knew you and cared for you. And I know I've ruined it all now, I'm so sorry. I know I'm not... Not what..."

Darcy could see him starting to lose it as she stood motionless in front of him. So she did the one thing she had been wanting to do since he'd put chicken soup in her fridge. Stretching up on her toes and placing a hand on his chest, she pressed her lips to his, silencing whatever else he had been about to say. He was only still for a moment before his lips responded to hers, kissing her back. One hand came up to her jaw, fingertips in her hair as he tilted her head and deepened the kiss. His other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer.

When they broke apart to breathe, he leaned his forehead on hers, his eyes closed. "I didn't ruin it, then?"

"Not even a little bit," she replied, putting both her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. "You can keep bringing me coffee and presents though. Just as long as they come with one of these..." And she pulled him down to kiss her again.


End file.
